


These Are a Few of My Least Favorite Things

by O Lord Damn This Alien (IneffableAlien)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Americanisms, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Deliberate Badfic, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Tea abuse, fucking ZIMA, ngk, throbbing love muscle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:08:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22125373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IneffableAlien/pseuds/O%20Lord%20Damn%20This%20Alien
Summary: What not to write, and then some.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 225
Kudos: 288





	These Are a Few of My Least Favorite Things

**Author's Note:**

> Several hours ago, in a Facebook group for AO3 Ineffable Husbands writers, someone started an innocuous conversation posing the question, **do you have any pet peeves in fics?**
> 
> Because I'm a terrible person, I immediately incorporated as many of those things as I could into one story.
> 
> You're welcome.

Crowley pulled up in the Bentley and put it in park. In his haste, he had actually managed to drive up over a portion of the curb. “Bloody sidewalk,” he cursed under his breath as he practically tripped up the steps to the bookshop. “Azi!” he called, flinging the door open and bursting inside.

Aziraphale jumped where he stood in front of the microwave, startled. Ever since Armageddidn’t-happen-so-look-at-this-clever-name-the-author-came-up-with-for-it, he and Crowley had been spending more and more time together, so naturally some modern technology was making its way into the shop due to Crowley’s influence. “Crumpets!” Aziraphale grumbled, which was as close as the gentle principality generally came to swearing. “Crowley, you nearly made me drop my cuppa!”

“Ssssssssorry, angel,” Crowley hissed, wrapping his strong arms around Aziraphale’s waist and kissing the top of his head. “I jusssst couldn’t wait to see you.”

Aziraphale couldn’t help but smile. “No harm done, my dear boy,” he said. “I couldn’t get the blasted thing to work anyway,” he added, gesturing at the microwave. “I was just about to use a miracle when you came in.”

“Don’t waste a miracle on tea,” said Crowley, setting his sunglasses on the counter.

“Oh, actually,” said Aziraphale, “we’re out of tea. I was just warming up a Starbucks medium roast I made with the Keurig this morning.”

“Coffee, tea, what’s the difference?” Crowley snarked, pulling Aziraphale by his forearms out of the kitchen. He grinned. “Come to the couch with me for something stronger.”

Aziraphale allowed himself to be pulled along without argument. How could he say no to the studly demon? After all, Aziraphale didn’t have to say no anymore these days; he could finally relax and retire into his true self-effacing (if a tad skittish at times) demeanor; and here’s another semicolon just because.

As they cuddled together on the couch, Crowley snapped his fingers and summoned two frosty bottles of clear liquid and popped off the caps. “What are those?” asked Aziraphale, his chubby pink face the picture of innocence.

“Well,” said Crowley, grinning devilishly, “it’s Zima, but I couldn’t help myself: look at the label.” He handed one of the bottles to Aziraphale.

Aziraphale chuckled with delight. “It says ‘Zira’!”

“Yep,” said Crowley, popping the “P” and nuzzling Aziraphale’s curls “anything for my Zira.”

Aziraphale looked puzzled. “Did you forget a comma just now?”

“What?” asked Crowley.

“Nothing, dear. I must be imagining things.”

“I’ll tell you what I definitely _didn’t_ forget,” Crowley growled softly, kissing the shell of Aziraphale’s ear and nipping along his jaw. “I didn’t forget to make an _effort.”_

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale sighed in pleasure. “You know I’ve never …”

“It’s okay, baby,” Crowley whispered, nudging Aziraphale’s nose with his. “Just let me teach you.” He slithered one pale hand across Aziraphale’s chest, feeling the way Aziraphale’s heart pounded beneath his fingertips, which for some reason had sharp nails painted black even though that’s not in the show or the book so nobody knows where it came from but it’s in every other fic and fanart and also this seemed like a good place to put a run-on sentence.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale begged, “please don’t tease me.”

“Of course not, Azi,” Crowley said indulgently, performing multiple minor miracles at once, “this is the part in the fic where we just miracle half our clothes off, that’s one of the great things about this ship.” He paused. “We’re also never going to mention what we did with those bottles or any type of blocking again.” Crowley pushed Aziraphale against the back of the couch. “But I had to leave _some_ clothes on, to take off the human way,” he said wickedly. “It’s too much like unwrapping a perfect present …” Crowley kneeled between Aziraphale’s legs, and started to tug Aziraphale’s pants down over his hips—

“Wait,” said Aziraphale, stopping Crowley for a moment, “which pants are we on now? British, or American?”

Crowley froze. “That’s a good question, innit?” he mused. “Oh, bugger this,” he decided, miracling the rest of their clothes away with a flick of his hand.

Crowley gazed upon the gorgeous throbbing love muscle before him. “Zira,” he said cheekily, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’d made one of these before.”

“Never,” Aziraphale moaned, “I always waited for you, my dear.” Aziraphale carded his fingers through the redhead's crimson locks.

Crowley looked up. “‘Carded’?”

“No, it’s fine,” said Aziraphale. “I checked a thesaurus.”

 _I hope all these fourth wall jokes aren’t getting old,_ thought the narrator.

 _Well,_ she thought upon further reflection, _at least I lampshaded it._

Crowley held Aziraphale’s peen in one hand and examined it, arching his eyebrows archingly. He snaked his forked tongue up the underside of that magnificent angelic anaconda, stopping at the tip to wrap his tongue around its meaty mushroom helmet. Aziraphale cried out as Crowley took the whole of his throat spackler down to his tonsils.

“Yes! Good Lord, Crowley!” Aziraphale panted. _“That’s better than crêpes!”_

__

__

_“Ngk,”_ was all Crowley could say, choking as he was on delicious man sausage.

Aziraphale bucked against his lover’s lush mouth and flooded it with seed. “Oh, _Crow!”_ he shouted, in defiance of the disapproving heavens!

Crowley popped off Aziraphale’s leaking manhood and peered up at him adoringly, tawny-amber-or-possibly-egg-yolk-colored eyes appearing … I don't know, I'm out of adjectives. “Az,” he breathed dreamily against Aziraphale’s thighs—which were thick AF, incidentally—“I love you so much.”

“And I you, my darling demon,” Aziraphale spoke like a prayer. “And I you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ## The critics' reviews are in!
> 
> _“I can’t believe you were so ballsy as to say_   
>  _No Archive Warnings Apply, because if anything_   
>  _should be warned about, it’s this.”_
> 
> _“This story is your M25.”_
> 
> _“Peen haha”_
> 
> xx [siliconealien](http://siliconealien.tumblr.com)

**Author's Note:**

> ## The critics' reviews are in!
> 
> _“I can’t believe you were so ballsy as to say_   
>  _No Archive Warnings Apply, because if anything_   
>  _should be warned about, it’s this.”_
> 
> _“This story is your M25.”_
> 
> _“Peen haha”_
> 
> xx [siliconealien](http://siliconealien.tumblr.com)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * A [Restricted Work] by [ExMarks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExMarks/pseuds/ExMarks) Log in to view. 
  * [Not on the plants, dear, we’re British (NOW WITH ART!)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22203073) by [GayDemonicDisaster (scrapheapchallenge)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrapheapchallenge/pseuds/GayDemonicDisaster)




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